


Come Inside

by Vulpes86



Category: Elementary (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, I know I'm late to the game, Season 4 beginning, declarations, season 3 ending, what should have happened
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-22
Updated: 2018-04-22
Packaged: 2019-04-26 03:37:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14393487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vulpes86/pseuds/Vulpes86
Summary: With season 6 upon us, and finally having an account, here is my FF all the way from the end of season 3.What should have happened post-relapse after Joan left Sherlock up on the roof.Again I know this is from so many seasons ago, but I hope you enjoy.





	Come Inside

“Sherlock, you have to come inside.” Joan shouted from the door at the top of the stairs. 

He didn’t budge. He sat in the same lawn chair staring off at everything and nothing at all. The blanket she had draped over him earlier was still in the same place, the tray of food untouched, the only thing that was different from how she left him on the roof last night was the steady patter of rain. Everything was soaked.

Joan opened a large umbrella and walked to Sherlock’s side. Her boots splashed in the large puddles that had accumulated already. She stood over him blocking the rain from saturating him any further. She wished she had woken up earlier, she suspected it had been raining for well over an hour. “Sherlock, it’s raining, it’s cold, and you’re soaked. You are coming inside, now.” Still no movement. She looked down at him. The once vibrant, enthusiastic and down right hyper man she had come to know was not there, simply an empty shell. It broke her heart seeing him like this. She sighed as raindrops dripped from his eyelashes, off the tip of his red nose. 

Hesitantly she reached down and touched his shoulder, half afraid he would be dead, the other half that he would lash out in some way. He flinched and moved from underneath her light touch, as if he was repulsed by the contact. 

“Don’t touch me.” He croaked in hushed tones. “Leave me alone, leave me here.” He shifted farther away from her. 

Why did he have to be like this? Why couldn’t he just accept he made a mistake and start the healing process? Why did it have to be so drawn out and dramatic? _Because he’s Sherlock, that’s why._ Joan thought to herself. 

She moved around him to position herself directly in front of him. While she knew he wouldn’t look at her, at least she was making her presence known. “Sherlock, you have been up here for days. You need to come inside. You are going to get sick.”

“You and I both know that being out in the rain doesn’t make you sick. You were a doctor remember?” He continued to stare through her. 

“You are being ridiculous.” She was doing everything in her power not to yell but she knew he could hear the tension in her voice. “Sherlock, this is insane. It’s time to stop punishing yourse-“

He sprung up from his chair nearly knocking Joan over. When she steadied herself he was inches from her face. His cheeks were flushed and finally there was some kind of emotion behind his eyes, she knew it wasn’t a good one, but finally she got him to react to something. 

“You are absolutely right Watson. This is ridiculous. I had everything I needed right here. I had my sobriety, I had my work, I had friends, I had a life and it wasn’t enough. I was being ridiculous when I went into that tunnel, ridiculous when I drew up the heroin, ridiculous when I shot up thinking that it would fix something or change something.” His voice was starting to get louder. “And you’re right, I am insane! I am insane to ever think I can go back to what I had. I am insane for taking it for granted, for throwing it away.” He panted, small clouds of breath formed between them in the cold air. “But you are wrong about one thing. I deserve this. I deserve the cold and the rain. The ache in my fingers and toes. The shakes and chills of withdrawal. I deserve every last second and then some.” He hung his head. “What I don’t deserve is this home. I don’t deserve people like Gregson and Bell and Alfredo. And I certainly don’t deserve you.” 

Sherlock had become very quiet at the end, Joan just barely able to make out his words. She reached out with her hand and placed it along his very stubbled cheek. He seemed reluctant at first but was unable to pull away from the warmth of her touch. She lifted his face. Still with a downward gaze, she saw tears in his eyes. 

“Look at me.” Joan demanded. “Look at me!” She lifted his face higher. His eyes met hers, and had he not needed her to be strong she too would have started crying. To see someone she loved so much in so much pain was almost too much for her to bear. “Yes that was ridiculous, and maybe you are insane and deserving of some kind of punishment. But we are not doing this up here, in the cold, in the rain.” She saw his features soften and she knew she had won this one. “We are going inside. Now.”

Her hand slid from his face to his wrist. It helped that he was already standing; she just hoped he wouldn’t plop down on the ground like a toddler that didn’t want to go to bed. Reluctantly he followed. She brought him down to the kitchen where there were steaming mugs of tea waiting for them, along with towels and a robe. 

The sight of the effort Joan was going to was almost too much for him, he coward in the doorway, clutching himself. Joan looked at him with sympathy. “Lets get you out of those clothes,” she sighed.

She helped peel off the sweat shirt and shirt that had clung to him for too many days. She wrapped a robe around him as he pulled off his pants and boxers. “Sit.” She said and motioned to a chair next to a cup of tea. He had no effort left to resist her. He sat. She picked up a towel and began gently drying his hair like he was a child, and he was really.

“There.” She said after a few moments. He looked up at her and she smiled. How could she smile at him? She put the towel in the bathroom and returned to his side. She pulled another chair up to him so that their knees were touching. He stared at his hands in his lap, slowly regaining color and warmth. 

“Sherlock Holmes.” Joan said his name with such kindness and love. Something he would normally love to hear, but as of right now he did not want to be reminded of who he was, or who he used to be. She took his hands in hers. He admired her hands, the hands of a surgeon, ever since they had met all those years ago. Back when he thought he didn’t need her, that he didn’t need anyone. She squeezed his hands and brought him back to the present. “I need you to talk to me, and I need you to listen. You made a mistake. You need to forgive yourself. You need to heal and move past this. I need you to move past this.”

They sat in silence for what seemed like hours. “How?” He asked meekly. “Why?” She caught him looking at her from the corner of his eye. His blank expression replaced with something that looked like regret and disgust. 

“You talk to me, tell me what you are thinking. You acknowledge that fact that you, yes you Sherlock, are human, are flawed and make mistakes just like the rest of us. You forgive yourself for your mistake because you are human and they are bound to happen. You move past this because you know what you can be, you know what and who you truly are.”

“I know exactly who I am. I am a drug addict, a failure, a disappointment.”

She squeezed his hands harder. “No. That is not who you are. You are brilliant, and cunning. You are caring and loving. You are the most amazing person I have ever met, and I will never stop fighting to get you back.” His eyes met hers. He could not believe how they lit up when she was talking about him, this awful person in front of her. “You have a gift, Sherlock. A truly magnificent gift, and you use that gift to help people in a way that no one else can. That is who you are. You are committed and thorough and diligent and borderline obsessive when it comes to your work and what you do, and that’s what makes you wonderful. That’s what makes me…” It was Joan this time that broke their gaze. 

“I am only those things because of you. Underneath you know none of that is true. I am narcissistic, ego driven and self centered.” He hissed. He pulled his hands away from hers. “Just leave Watson. I don’t need you reminding me of all the things I had and then lost. That I destroyed. You tried to fix me, but it looks like you failed. I don’t need you to remind me of the person I fooled everyone into thinking I was.” 

Joan was tired with the walls he was putting up. She had known him too long not to see right through his hurtful words. She knew he was just trying to see if he could push her away. How much it would take. She was done. She stood up with such force her chair screeched back and nearly toppled over. 

“Good you’re finally leaving. I knew it was only time before you realized I was a hopeless cause, broken beyond rep-“ 

She hugged him tightly. Her arms around his neck squeezing herself to him. “Sherlock.” She whispered. “Stop acting like I don’t know you. You’ve said it yourself, I know you better than anyone has before. And I do. I do know you. We are going to get through this and there is nothing you can do to push me away. So, please, just stop.” A small hiccup shook her body. Was she crying? “I know who you are, and I know this is part of him, but this is not all of him.” She pulled back just far enough for them to look each other in the eye. Why did she keep looking at him, she knew he wasn’t good with eye contact. 

“Joan,” he breathed out her name. 

She pulled farther away, he caught her hands before they left his neck. She smiled at him, and a tear fell down her cheek. She leaned down and kiss his forehead. The warmth of her touch sent chills down his spine, but not the same chills of sitting out in the rain, electrifying chills of energy and renewal. His eyes were closed savoring the sensation of her lips, when he felt them again on his own. A soft, simple kiss. By the time he opened his eyes she was already pulling away. “I love you, Sherlock, and I am never going to leave your side.” She pulled him up, standing he hovered over her small frame. “It's time for you to go to bed.” She announced like nothing had happened. And maybe it hadn’t, because maybe he knew all along. 

She led him upstairs to his bedroom. He sat down on the bed as she riffled through his drawers. Grabbing boxers, flannel bottoms and a white t-shirt. She placed the pile of neatly folded clothes next to him. 

“Can I trust you to change and put yourself to bed? No more melancholy for tonight?”

Sherlock scoffed, looked at his hands to the clothes and back, shaking his head ever so slightly. “Yes, I’ll be OK.” He was starting to feel so utterly childish. Being put to bed, having his clothes laid out. He wasn’t sure if he should feel grateful or offended. He reached for the shirt, then put it back down as Joan started to leave his room. The thought of her absence sent waves of panic through him, although he wasn’t sure why. “Watson, I…” He trailed off as she turned around. A smile of content rested upon her face, throwing him off. “I…you… what I mean to say…” She looked at him more intently. He shook his head, tying to shake the fog off. “What I am trying to say is, ‘thank you.’” Their eyes met, hers filled with hope, renewal and focus, his with worry, failure and dismay. 

“I will always be here for you Sherlock. Just as I know you will always be here for me.” Her smile spread to her eyes. “Let me go clean up the wet mess in the kitchen and I’ll be back to check on you.” She turned and left, shutting the door behind her.

Slowly he dressed in the clothes she had pulled out for him. The warmth that they offered reminded him of how incredibly exhausted he was. He had barely slept while up on the roof, nodding off here and there, the remainder of the time going over every mistake he had ever made in painfully clear detail. Now all he could think about was Joan.  
He hung his robe up and sat down on the bed. She was right though he would always be there for her. The few times she had been in danger’s way were some of the hardest moments of his life. Those moments too had crossed his mind on the roof, what he could have done better to keep her safer, cursing himself for not getting to her sooner. He felt himself slipping back into that train of thought, thoughts that predominated his entire being on the roof. “Watson,” he squawked. “Watson!” 

“What is it? What’s wrong?” She burst through the door. He embraced her in a tight hug as soon as she was within arms length. She hugged him back, though not as tightly or with as much ferocity as he did. Slightly unsure, she turned her head to the side, listened to his heart beat racing. “Sherlock? What’s wrong?”

He buried his face in her hair. He hated how much he needed her, he loved that she was always there; these two things terrified him. He never wanted to let her go. What if something did happen to her? He would never survive. What if she left him? He wouldn’t be able to go on. He knew these things were ridiculous but he couldn’t help it. He couldn’t help that he too had fallen in love. 

They stood there a few moments longer, Joan listening as his heart beat began to slow. She was glad of that, knowing that he was starting to calm. She slowly felt his grip on her body loosen. While it felt good to be able to breath normally again, she already missed the closeness they had just shared. She started to pull away to when she stopped and realized he was looking down at her. She stared into his ever-watching eyes, unable to decipher what he was thinking. 

“Just talk to me Sherlock, tell me what’s going on in that mind of yours.” She smiled at him, knowing he could never fully explain that.

Picking up on her humor he smiled back, “You know that’s impossible, my dear Watson.” He led her to the edge of the bed where they both took a seat. “I had begun to think of all of the mistakes I have made, and it was, well, overwhelming. I know it is this train of thought that helped me down the rabbit hole.” He held her open hand in his, tracing the lines of her palm. “How does one human make so many?”

She shrugged. “Just remember, some of those mistakes brought me to you, brought us together, to what we have now.”

He hadn’t thought of it that way before, and he thinks of everything. Had he not been an addict he would have never needed a sober companion and never met Joan in the first place. The epiphany was astounding, however he still had more to say. 

“Watson…Joan…” A slight smile crossed her lips as he said her name. “The amount that I need you, that I rely on you, it’s, well, it’s unacceptable.” She frowned. “I fear that if anything ever happened to you or if you were to ever leave frankly I could not go on, and that thought alarms me.” He placed his hand on her cheek, looking into her unexplainably dark eyes. “It alarms me because I know what it means.” She smiled. “It means I love you also.” He pulled her in for a kiss. This one much deeper than the one they had shared in the kitchen. His tongue slipped past her lips and she tasted of tea and honey. He never wanted to stop. 

She returned his kiss, clinging to his shirt to bring him closer. It felt wonderful to be this close to him. But she knew as much as they were both enjoying this newfound part of their relationship he needed his rest, and she didn’t want things getting carried away this quickly. Slowly she pulled back, putting both her hands on his face. “You need to get some rest.” She said sternly but with a smile on her face, cheeks flushed. 

Sherlock nodded but simply looked unsatisfied. “Will you please stay, just for a little, until I fall asleep? I don’t suspect it will take long.” 

She examined his heavy eyes and agreed. Sherlock got in bed and she tucked him in. She sat on the bed next to him stroking his hair. “Sherlock,” She said. She could tell his breathing was beginning to slow and he was finally succumbing to his fatigue. He mumbled a response. “We are going to get through this together. The world needs you Sherlock, I need you. You are the greatest thing that has ever happened to me.” She smiled as she stroked his hair. A soft snore came from his side of the bed and she knew he was already asleep. She stayed a few moments more admiring him, thankful that he finally looked peaceful. 

She carefully edged out of bed, she knew he was a terribly light sleeper, however she was hoping that he was tired enough that not much could wake him. She made her way over to the door and carefully closed it, leaving it just cracked in case he needed something. 

Ten hours later she heard the door and floorboards creek in disturbance as Sherlock awoken. She followed the sounds of footsteps over head and soon heard the sound of running water. _Oh thank god he’s showering she thought to herself. I better get some tea on. _She wandered into the kitchen and set the kettle on the stove. Rummaging though the cabinets and fridge she tried to find something to cook for him. Unfortunately while she had mastered the art of taking a human a part and putting it back together she had very few skills when it came to cooking. She didn’t have much time for it in the days of medical school or residency. _Looks like we are having brinner… _she pulled out the eggs and bacon from the fridge and the waffle mix from the cabinet.____

____Soon bacon was sizzling and the waffle iron had produced several large waffles. She heard the stairs creek and her heart began to race. What if what had happened this morning was all a mistake. He was so vulnerable, what if he thinks she was just doing whatever she needed to get him out of that trance. What if he wasn’t thinking right, just needed some form of human contact, with any one, not just her. Maybe that’s all she was doing._ _ _ _

____She busied herself at the stove, afraid to turn around. She pushed the scrambled eggs from one side of the pan to the other. “Can you grab some plates?” She asked without turning around. She heard the cabinet open and plates being placed on the table. She stayed incredibly focused on the eggs, which were now done. She sighed and turned around._ _ _ _

____“Oh!” she stammered nearly dropping the eggs. Sherlock looked like himself again. He was clean-shaven in a t-shirt and vest, with his very tight pants and stripped socks. “You clean up well.” She smiled at him as she scrapped even helpings on to the plates. She placed the skillet back on the stove and brought the bacon and waffles to the table._ _ _ _

____Sherlock looked confused. “What time is it?” He glanced at his watch, then to the table._ _ _ _

____“Its 8 pm.” She saw the continued confusion as he looked at the meal spread out before them. “It’s brinner. You know, breakfast for dinner… brinner?” She smiled and shrugged her shoulders. “You know I’m not the best cook, and we don’t exactly have a lot to work with in the pantry right now, so you get brinner. Deal with it.” She sat down and motioned for him to do the same._ _ _ _

____“Thank you, Watson.” Sherlock sat and loaded waffles and bacon on to his plate. “You really didn’t need to go through the trouble.”_ _ _ _

____“No trouble at all,” she paused. “How are you feeling? You look much better than you did this morning, that’s for sure.”_ _ _ _

____“I still feel exhausted, and part of me still wants to go back up to that roof.” Watson frowned. “But I have come to accept the reality and the fact that I simply cannot waste my time up there any more. This waffle is delicious, Watson.” He took another bite. “I suppose it is time to face reality and my actions. I need to deal with the consequences, and can only hope you will be there with me.”_ _ _ _

____“Of course, Sherlock. Like I told you before I will always be there for you.” She smiled and reached over to squeeze his hand. She felt a slight jump under her touch, she was starting to wonder if he even remember this morning. She drew her hand back and concentrated on her food. She was starting to feel stupid. She said she would be there to support him, and that’s what she would do, no mater what, that is what she needed to focus on. This morning was a mistake, her doing anything to comfort him, him just in desperate need of human contact and sympathy. Time to moved on._ _ _ _

____“Watson, do you have a personal vendetta against that waffle?” Sherlock asked with an amused look upon his face._ _ _ _

____She stared down at the waffle that was now in shambles. Flustered she stammered out a “No,” and proceeded to eat what remained._ _ _ _

____“I haven’t forgotten about this morning.” He trailed off. Joan stopped eating and just looked at him, waiting for him to continue. They sat in silence for a few moments, staring at each other. Sherlock frowned, hoping Joan would speak first. He cleared his throat and continued. “I suppose what we discovered was really nothing new. We have been clear to each other in the past about how much the other means to us. It is no surprise that we have come to love each other; we have been through so much, relied on each other, grown together. And while there have been times that we have been separated we have always found a way back to each other. As I had mentioned before, we are bound to one and other, some how.” He paused and took a deep breath. “Now I suppose we go about figuring out how we are bound, for I assume neither of us would like to make a mistake that would jeopardize what we have created together, our partnership.”_ _ _ _

____Was he saying that this morning was a mistake? She agreed that she would never want anything to ruin what they had, but it had felt so right this morning. It felt right when she kissed him. It felt right when he held her close. It felt right when he asked her to stay. She was so confused. He was always the one professing how much he needed her. Could it be that she needed him even more? He never ceased to frustrate her. “You’re right. We should make sure we don’t do anything that could mess up what we have. I suppose it would be hard juggling a professional relationship and a… well… less professional relationship.” She stood up and took their plates over to the sink and began washing them off. She wasn’t sure what else to do. She heard his chair scrape across the flood as he stood up._ _ _ _

____Watson was acting strange. Maybe she had meant that kiss. Maybe she wasn’t just trying to make him feel better and maybe he was ok with that. It wasn’t that he wasn’t attracted to her, she was very beautiful, he just feared he couldn’t give her what she needed. She had always had such conventional relationships, much to his dismay. She knew he couldn’t do conventional, even if it was for her. And it wasn’t that he didn’t love her, he did, very much so, he was just worried he would get carried away if they let things progress, and that frankly terrified him. He walked across the floor to where she stood at the sink. “Watson,” he said softly as he put his hand on her shoulder. She jumped and partially turned to look at him. He grabbed hold of her other shoulder and turned her completely towards him._ _ _ _

____He just stood there. Staring at her. Trying to figure her out. She could see the calculations running through his head. The likelihood she felt the same way. The probability of a relationship working out, the ratio of feelings. She knew this was the only way he could figure out how he felt, it was simply not a gut reaction like the rest of us, so she let him. The seconds ticked away as he stood there with his hands on her shoulders staring into her eyes. She stepped closer to him, placed her hands on his chest. He wasn’t the only one who got to do some calculations. It was time for her to test her hypothesis._ _ _ _

____Her fingers carefully crept up to his neck line, tracing what little collar bone was exposed from his t-shirt. She could feel his heart rate quicken under the touch, well at least she made him feel something, that was a start. Slowly, methodically her left hand slid up his neck while the right kept track of his pulse. She broke eye contact with him, moving down his face to stare at his lips, currently in a pensive frown. She smiled at the sight. Usually the face he makes when he is stumped or has come upon new interesting information. Her hand continued to travel up and along his jaw line, heart rate still increasing. She had nearly made it to his lips when he snatched her hand away. Startle she looked back up at him._ _ _ _

____“Am I distracting you?” she asked coyly._ _ _ _

____“Yes.” He frowned._ _ _ _

____“What are you so focused on? What is it that you can’t figure out? Maybe I can help, I am your partner after all.” She smiled, rubbing the fact in that he was having a hard time figuring her out._ _ _ _

____He stayed silent and still, still with her hand in his. She scowled at him, why is this taking so long? He was either attracted to her or he wasn’t. She highly doubted he took this long figuring out what to do with all of his female guests he had invited over the years. “What do you want to know, Sherlock?” She demanded. “What do you want?”_ _ _ _

____If only it were as simple as that he thought. She surely knew that he couldn’t possibly have boiled all the questions and thoughts down in his mind to a simple question of “what do you want?” There were so many other factors in the equation, weren’t there? It wasn’t as simple as Watson plus Homles, was it? He looked at her again, her waiting eyes. “May I try something?” He asked._ _ _ _

____“Sure.”_ _ _ _

____He placed her hand back on his face, his hand covering it. He let the warmth of her fingers spread across his cheek, down his neck, into his shoulders. Joan could feel him relax. He closed his eyes, letting the feeling pulse through him. Thinking how he felt when she kissed his forehead, his lips, when she kissed him back in his bedroom. He wanted all of those things. He opened his eyes, Joan was staring back at him, waiting patiently, he assumed, waiting for him to figure out what she already knew. How strange to be on the other side of that spectrum. Slowly, carefully, he lowered his lips to hers. He watched as she closed her eyes, how truly beautiful she was. Yes, this is what he wanted. He wanted her, her touch, her scent, her taste, honey and tea. He closed his eyes and pulled her close, turning the light kiss into something more._ _ _ _

____After a moment of exploring her body, Sherlock came to. He straightened himself and steadied Watson before him. He took a step back, hands back on her shoulders. She stared at him with flushed cheeks. He really was conducting a damn experiment. She was dumb founded. She opened her mouth to say something, but nothing would come out._ _ _ _

____“Thank you, Watson. I have gathered all the data necessary to answer your question.” She shut her mouth, waiting for his answer. “You.”_ _ _ _

____“Me?”_ _ _ _

____“Yes ‘you.’ Its actually the answer to both of your questions. I want to know you, I want you. Its really quite simple, my dear Watson” He smiled at her._ _ _ _

____“Oh shut up.” She smiled and he pulled her into his arms and hugged her tight against his chest._ _ _ _

____She hugged him back, a hiccup escaped her lips as she tried to keep back tears of happiness. “I love you, Sherlock.”_ _ _ _

____He stroked her dark hair as he rested his head on top of hers. “And I you, Watson.”_ _ _ _

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed this! I really hope we get some really good relationship development this season since I'm pretty sure its the last... Comments are appreciated!


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